-Worth-
by DragonflyxParodies
Summary: After the events of Skyrim, Alduin V has risen to power and is gathering his Dragon Priests. Hevnoraak, FourthClaw and Black-Blood of Alduin V, must work to solve a problem none could have foreseen-A traitorous Dragon Priest and strong Dragonborn-and answer a question even Alduin may fear the answer to. Was it really worth it?
1. Chapter 1

Hevnoraak had been pathetically weak, something that proved frustrating to him. The ghostly warrior guarding Valthume had proven stupid, not even realizing he was not there to keep Hevnoraak's power hidden and locked away, trusting the first stranger he found to defeat the Dragon Priest. The Draugr had proved no challenge to him whatsoever, even armed with their Shouts and single-minded, unwavering purpose.

Hevnoraak had been a sorcerer of unbelievable power, a man who had favored poisons and sickness as gifts to his enemies. He had found the remains of the Dragon Priest's experiments chained to walls within Valthume, prisoners that had probably been left screaming for freedom as Hevnoraak's men laid down in black coffins and cut their own throats.

All of Alduin IV's Dragon Priests had been formidable in their prime, supposedly undefeatable. They'd been strong enough to cheat death, and to commit treason successfully. In Alduin IV's time, Hevnoraak had been the SecondClaw, Arch-Dragon Priest and High-Blood.

None of that had amounted to anything beneath his blades, of silence, shadow, and stealth; a dagger to a vital strain of mummified flesh; a strike so quick it was a blur slipping past both shield and sword.

"Hevnoraak, you're sulking again." He jerked himself out of his thoughts, slicing the pad of his thumb against the dagger he had been toying with. Morokei's small hand tugged his injured hand away from his chest. A soft pulse of aqua light surrounded his wound and it vanished, skin closing over as the cut healed instantly. A soft grunt escaped him as he sheathed his weapon. Morokei settled beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as they waited. Nahkriin was asleep on the bench across from them, her mask resting on the floor beneath her fingertips. Krosis was cursing softly under his breath as he worked on a lock, his frustration tangible even from across the room.

"Konahrik said Vokun and Volsung will arrive soon." Morokei said suddenly. He nodded absently.

"It will be nice to get new siblings." He murmured, again reaching for his dagger. Her hand stopped him and he sighed.

"Are you agitated, FourthClaw?" He looked up as Alduin V entered the room, black scales shifting and bubbling as the World Eater took on the form of man.

As far as he knew, no Alduin had ever walked as man except for his. But, then again, no Alduin had ever been born without pure Dov blood.

"I am, Lord." Hevnoraak said, bowing his head as the World Eater collapsed beside Nahkriin. The SecondClaw lifted her head, murmured something sleepily to Alduin, and then lay her head on his lap, eyes drifting shut again. Absently, Alduin stroked her hair.

"Do you care to elaborate?" He smiled slightly beneath the cool touch of his mask at Alduin's words.

"Rumors of a Dovahkiin wandering Skyrim's land have sprung up again." He said. Nahkriin's eyes snapped open and Krosis fell silent. Morokei's fingers tightened around his own.

"Do they hold truth?" Alduin asked softly.

"I apologize deeply for interrupting, but yes, my Lord, they hold truth to them." Konahrik's voice was welcome, but the strain to the elder Dragon Priest's voice sent everyone to their feet. Rahgot, bleeding heavily from a wound on his side, was being half-dragged in by the FirstClaw, a strange-looking one-handed blade clutched in his other hand.

"What-?!" Krosis's cry of shock and anger mirrored everyone's thoughts. Hevnoraak stood, Morokei at his side and hurried towards the injured Dragon Priest, taking his massive weight from Konahrik.

"Who did this?" Alduin demanded. Morokei was already whispering a spell beneath her breath, aqua light pooling from her hands onto Rahgot's wound. The strange weapon clattered to the floor and Rahgot slumped down, sighing.

"The Dovahkiin, Lord Alduin. We heard a Dov in distress and followed the sounds of battle. She struck the fatal blow just as we arrived, and the ThirdClaw attacked. He managed to disarm her and take her weapon, but the damage was done and I had to get Rahgot away." The FirstClaw bowed, expecting punishment for his failure.

"Rise, FirstClaw. I thank you for your information. There is no need for punishment. You are valued for your wisdom and power, not your battle prowess, and it was the ThirdClaw's duty to protect both you and the Dov. He has suffered enough at the hands of my sister, I believe."

"Hev, can you help him to bed? I need a few minutes before I can heal the outer damage and stop the bleeding." Morokei asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He nodded.

"On three. One…Two…_Three!"_ Together, both he and Rahgot lunged forward, pushing themselves up. Hevnoraak slid an arm around the ThirdClaw's bulk and together they shuffled out of the Main Hall, Morokei anxiously hovering around them.

"Hevnoraak-when you are done helping the FifthClaw, I wish to speak to you. High-Blood, can you prepare your blades?"

"Yes, Alduin. I'll go get them." Krosis's voice made his lips twitch into a smile. It was unusual for an EighthClaw to possess the title of High-Blood, Alduin's personal assassin, and even more unusual for the youngest and most immature Dragon Priest to hold the title. But it fit, and Krosis had yet to let anyone down.

"She was about your age, Hev. Couldn't be older than you, was small. Built like Rokei and Kro. Not a warrior." Rahgot hissed, obviously furious at his defeat.

"The previous Alduin was defeated by an assassin. Scrap of a Dunmer, what was his title? Listener, I think. Basically the High-Blood for Sithis. This Dovahkiin is of his bloodline. Makes sense." He pointed out, as Morokei pushed open the door to the ThirdClaw's chambers. Rahgot snorted.

"She looked terrified, Hev. Like she was only fighting because she couldn't flee. When she drew in the Dov's soul, I expected her to start crying. Probably would have if we hadn't have attacked." A flash of Morokei's light blinded both of them for a moment, and Rahgot's muscles relaxed beneath his arm. He withdrew as the ThirdClaw gingerly stretched.

"Don't strain yourself. It could reopen the wound." Morokei said sharply.

"Rokei, you hear about Volsung and Vokun? They're twins. Konahrik is gonna go get them after this settles down. Probably tomorrow." Rahgot suddenly exclaimed, ignoring Morokei and changing the subject at the same time.

"Rahgot? Can I have the weapon?" Hevnoraak asked, shifting with a sudden wave of barley pent-up energy. Rahgot's amused expression made him scowl.

"Still searching for that perfect weapon of yours? Yeah, sure. It's too weird for my tastes. And, we both know Lord Alduin is gonna send you and the High-Blood out together. If you see the Dovahkiin, stab her with it for me." It took all the self-control he possessed to only smile a ridiculously pleased smile into the cool embrace of his mask as he murmured a quick thanks and hurried out of the room, Morokei's laughter floating after him.

When he emerged into the Main Hall Alduin sat with Krosis and Nahkriin, no sign of Konahrik anywhere. He bowed to the World Eater and snatched up the Dovahkiin's blade, sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of the others before examining it.

"Konahrik informed me that my sister wore the armor of the Blades. I'd like you and Krosis to go scouting for their hideaway for now. See if your informants have any information you could have missed." Alduin instructed, frowning absently.

"Alright. Let's go to Markarth, Hev. I have a feeling that's where the Blades go to for supplies and information and stuff. Solitude's totally clean, and the minor holds are too, and we know they're in that generally direction." Krosis said, jumping to his feet. The lock he had been working on earlier was in pieces on his chair, a bundle of lock-picks beside it.

"We're staying in Valthume then?" He asked, standing. Krosis nodded. It was somewhat typical of the EighthClaw. Valthume was Hevnoraak's seat of power, and Krosis enjoyed searching through the other Dragon Priest's citadels.

"Alright, Kro. We'll meet here in an hour and leave. Go pack." Krosis grinned and snatched up his lock-picks, half-skipping towards his room.

"He's very enthusiastic about this. Did you say he could kill anyone he wanted to?" Hevnoraak asked, glancing up at Alduin from his inspection. The World Eater smiled, shoulders lifting and falling.

"I…May have not explicitly forbidden it." He snorted at his Lord's words and left, gaze locked on the weapon. It was the most remarkable, beautifully crafted sword he'd ever held. The balance was perfect, edge razor sharp, and it was made of a material he had never seen before.

He'd spent years searching for the perfect weapon. He'd tricked Daedric Lords out of their artifacts only to toss them aside like they were trash because they did not satisfy him. He had searched through Nordic and Dwarven ruins, seeking out a weapon such as this. One that fit him, suited him, matched him. He'd accumulated so many odds and ends throughout his search that Valthume was littered with piles of enchanted weaponry and armor-not to mention his room here, in Alduin's main hold.

He was certain that by the time Krosis left, his piles would be considerably smaller.

Valthume never felt like home. Bodies of Forsworn stupid enough to try and enter always littered the door, always half-decomposed and torn apart by the creatures who patrolled the outside of the ruins. Unlike Nahkriin, he had no living servants. There _were_ those he kept where the previous Hevnoraak had held his own experiments, but they were not willing nor bound to him.

Krosis delighted in mocking him because of that-that was, of course, when Krosis wasn't poking around in his stuff.

He was asleep in the room he had killed the previous Hevnoraak in when something landed on his chest, heavy and definitely not welcome. He let out a cry, hand shooting out of the warmth of his blankets for a weapon. He encountered nothing but stone and his eyes snapped open. Krosis, mask-less and dressed in leather armor, laughed from his perch on his chest.

"What are you doing, little brother?" His voice was rough and raspy with sleep, which only made his companion laugh harder. Krosis slid off of him and landed on the stone floor, apparently so amused by the incident he could barely breathe. Hevnoraak pushed a hand through his hair-he hadn't cut it in a while, and it was almost long enough to tie back-as he rolled out of his bedroll and stood. A set of leather armor was piled beside his pack, different than the EighthClaw's. There was no metal protruding out of it, and it was enchanted to make absolutely no sound as he walked. It was made of Dovah scales whereas Krosis wore normal leather. He dressed quickly and then settled cross-legged next to the remains of his bedroll, lifting a flask to his lips.

He took one drink and spit it out, narrowly missing Krosis.

"I told you not to get into my poisons!" He snapped, unscrewing the cap and dumping the liquid-pure water-onto the stone. Krosis laughed again.

"Do you have any idea how weird it is that you drink that stuff straight? Rokei put me up to it, anyway! It's unhealthy."

"It keeps you out of my stuff." He snapped back, reaching into his pack. He withdrew a pair of brown glass bottles and popped the seals on them, dumping them carefully into the flask.

"So what's that? And no, it doesn't keep me out of your stuff."

"Lotus Extract." He said, glaring. Krosis smiled cheekily.

"You drink rare and deadly poison on a daily basis?"

"After I absorbed the previous Hevnoraak's power I just started doing it. Same way you obsess over your locks, EighthClaw. They don't hurt me, and they _do_ taste pleasant."

"Then fill up now." Krosis muttered, standing.

Hevnoraak sighed and began gathering essentials together. He couldn't bring too much, lest those they hunted realized what he was, but he had to bring enough to be believed when they said they were simple hunters passing through the Reach to get to Solitude.

He packed his by-now-damp bedroll and enough poisons to get him through a couple of days, some food, gold, pelts, alchemic ingredients that could easily be procured from dead animals, and some spare clothing. The weapon Rahgot had taken from the Dovahkiin he found a few feet away, where Krosis had obviously tossed it. He nursed it carefully as he checked it for scrapes or nicks.

He had yet to put it through the final test-battle-but he had a feeling his search was finally over.

"Are you ready yet?" He glanced up at Krosis. The boy stood impatiently in front of the door, looking as disheveled and unorganized as the best thief in Skyrim possibly could.

The thought gave him pause. Unlike the others, he had not truly had a life before becoming the FourthClaw of Alduin V. He had always, for as long as he could remember, been entirely dedicated to the World Eater. As a child, he'd wanted to become a Dragon Priest, after listening to his parents tell tales of their power, their duties.

The fact those tales gave nightmares to other children had not mattered to him.

At fifteen, he'd begun seeking out a perfect weapon, and had met Krosis-before he'd become EighthClaw. They had journeyed together until he'd picked up tales of Hevnoraak's mask. Seventeen then, and he'd claimed Hevnoraak's power as his own, thereby dedicating his existence to serving Alduin V.

A month later, Krosis had joined their number. Krosis had been on his way to becoming the youngest Guild Master of the notorious Thieves Guild in Riften. The boy had abandoned that to serve Alduin. Pride swelled within his chest as he studied his companion, one he had long ago come to feel was a little brother. Two years after that, Krosis was now seventeen, and they were hunting down the Blades.

"Hey old man, let's get going. There's a Dovahkiin that needs killing and I'm not getting any younger."

"Watch it, Kro. My friends a little farther in would love some company." The threat made the boy laugh aloud, and the thief turned and left. Hevnoraak shouldered his pack and followed momentarily.


	2. Chapter 2

The SilverBlood Inn made Hevnoraak recall every reason he hated civilization. Between the owner screeching at his wife from across the Gathering Hall and the drunken brawls occurring near the bar, he was ready to slaughter every breathing person in the building-slowly and agonizingly.

There _was_ a reason he was the Black-Blood.

Krosis dropped a tankard filled with ale onto the table, interrupting his bloody thoughts.

"I got us a room. You take the bed?"

"Floor." He said shortly, uncapping his flask and taking a drink of it. He would never be able to fully describe the taste of Lotus Extract. It was faintly sweet, but the rich undertones to the flavor dominated the poison.

He'd taken to drinking them after Morokei had forbidden him from eating the ingredients. He'd taken one too many Deathbell flowers from her garden, and it disturbed her to see him eating them as she ate sweets.

"Alright. Left corner by the door? I think they're our targets. They're eyeing us like that Dibellan Priestess was eyeing you earlier."

"Are they even trying to be subtle?"

"They aren't known for their stealth tactics. The only reason we haven't found them yet because all of the Reach is a dead zone to us. They kill all that enter." Krosis snorted, propping his feet up on the only empty chair at their table. Hevnoraak frowned. He didn't necessarily agree with the EighthClaw's sentiments-the Blades had survived for hundreds of years without revealing the location of their hideout-but he did understand that the Blades focused on strength and honor rather than the stealth and deceit Krosis and he were used to. It was plausible…but he found himself doubting it.

"Don't blow it, Kro." He sighed, taking another drink from his flask. Krosis rolled his eyes.

"I'm not stupid, brother. It's _you_ I'm worried about."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hevnoraak saw someone approaching. He capped his flask, slumping back in his chair as he promptly began talking about something trivial.

"I can't believe you didn't kill that bear." He muttered, reaching over and grabbing Krosisi's tankard. He took a tentative sip of the ale and spit it out, shuddering.

"That's my drink, brother." Krosis growled, snatching it back from him.

"It's _disgusting_!" He said, coughing into his arm to dispel the last residual drops of the liquid.

"It's cheap ale. What did you expect, Hev?" Krosis retorted.

"It's a waste of money." He muttered, uncapping his flask again.

"Says you."

"I'm going to the room. Where is it?" He said flatly, pushing himself up. Krosis pointed towards a hall to their right, and Hevnoraak sighed. He grabbed his belongings and left the EighthClaw alone.

As soon as he entered the room Krosis had rented, he was aware there was another person in the room.

He continued moving as if he was alone, dropping his pack onto the floor and unrolling his bedroll. He felt the intruder move forward as he stood up, felt the air at his side move as a blade lunged towards his flesh.

He caught the assassin's hand and jerked them off balance, sending them crashing to the floor. In the dim light of the candles someone had lit and placed in various perches he could see the ruby and ebon markings distinct only to the Brotherhood.

The assassin kicked a foot out, catching him on the hip. He stumbled back and his adversary nimbly leapt to their feet, whipping out a long ebon dagger. The assassin wasted no time in shooting towards him-but he'd already drawn the Dovahkiin's blade. He sidestepped at the last second and slammed his foot into the assassin's back, sending them crashing into the stone wall. His blade passed through their back and scrapped against the wall with very little effort, veins of ice crackling to existence around the wound. The assassin let out a muffled groan-but fearing that the weapon was scratched by its contact with the wall, he'd already torn the blade free of his enemy and was nursing it. The assassin fell down, gasping for breath even as Hevnoraak assured himself that his weapon was fine.

He slashed the Dovahkiin's sword across the assassin's throat and wiped it on what little armor wasn't saturated with blood. He sheathed it and glanced at the closed door. The scuffle hadn't been that loud, but he'd be disappointed in Krosis if the EighthClaw didn't come.

He studied the size of the assassin-they were of the same height, and similarly built. He could pass as the Brotherhood member with minimal difficulty.

He searched the assassin's body and found a few potions, poisons, and a note. He grinned and unfolded it, moving into an area of better light.

_You will find the target in the SilverBlood Inn. I don't care what happens to the younger hunter-My associates and I want only the elder dead by morning. You'll receive your pay when the job is done. Meet me by the stairwell past the market._

Apparently the Blades were more observant than Krosis believed. He folded the note up and stashed it away before donning the corpse's armor. He lifted up his cloak and fastened it around his neck He wished he'd had time to study how the assassin moved to better emulate the man, but knew he had no such luxury. He'd have to guess-or would he? The Brotherhood had never been particularly welcome, and they'd often disguised themselves. If he kept himself hidden but wandered around the market until he went to the-No. It was night. Everything would be closed down.

_So fast and hurried it was._

Hevnoraak kept his head low as he wove around various stands that stood empty and locked in the dark shadows of the moonless night, although he had no need to. He'd cast an illusion spell that Morokei had taught him and changed his features to that of the dead assassin.

Markarth was a city built upon a city and the remnants of Dwemer life-structures and pipes-blocked out any possibility of starlight. He expected the encounter to take place in a shadowed alcove, quick and hurried and without much of a surprise.

He'd been wrong.

The contact, a Dibellan Priestess, leaned against the stone within a niche in the wall that defended Markath, just big enough for him to slip into as well. One of the eternally glowing Dwemer lanterns blazed outside of the alcove, dramatically painting the Imperial woman in shadows and light. When he slipped into the alcove, she slid her arms around his neck and closed the distance between them-he hoped it was in case anyone happened to pass by.

"Is it done?" She whispered, lips brushing his ear.

"Yes." He said softly, voice low. He'd no idea if the assassin had spoken to the Priestess before. She let out a sigh, drawing him into a relaxed embrace.

"Do you mind if I ask a question?" He asked, responding to her contact in kind as someone passed by their alcove. He hated physical contact with anyone save the other Dragon Priests or Lord Alduin, and only the possibility of a traitor kept him from jerking away from her.

"Not at all." She murmured.

"Why did you want him dead?" Unspoken questions followed it-_Was there a traitor among their number? Who had let it slip that they would be in Markarth? Where were the Blades? How did she know them?_-but he kept them silent.

"You've heard of the Blades, have you not?"

"You are a Priestess." He replied quietly. She laughed quietly.

"I hold dear interests in destroying the dragons along with my duties as a Priestess. One of the Blades disappeared a while back near an old structure surrounded by a ring of dead beasts and men. We keep watch on the ruins, and we noticed a man leaving and entering-the man you killed. We suspected him of being allied to the dragons." She murmured. His thoughts stilled for a single, long second, although he gave no outward indication.

"The dragons? Why on earth would he ally himself with the beasts?" He feigned shock, disgust, and no small amount of anger. If this Priestess was a Blade, then she could be his ticket to discovering their location. And perhaps…Perhaps he could infiltrate their numbers. He could destroy the Blades from within and eradicate any threat to Lord Alduin.

He cast a spell that Konahrik had taught him and his magic pulled discreetly on her emotions.

"The Blades are in need of strong warriors…If you can prove your worth…" Her finger hooked on the clasp of his cloak and she pulled him after her as she hurried down a random street-random to him at least, to whom Markarth was entirely foreign. She eventually stopped at in front of a Dwemer door, releasing him as she spun to face him.

"Centuries ago this was a Shrine, to a man some worshipped as a Divine. My associates purchased it a while back-some of them worship here still, but there are more…useful purposes for it now." As she spoke she produced a key and slipped it into the door, turning it and pulling the heavy metal open. She ushered him inside and closed it behind them.

He heard the ominous snick of the lock as she slipped in front of him.

His hand brushed the hilt of the Ebony blade as he followed to reassure himself it was still there-multiple times his own weapons had been snatched from his side by Krosis without his knowledge and he would have been anything but surprised to find a Dibellan Priestess with light fingers. He'd been disappointed to leave the Dovahkiin's sword with Krosis, but the Dovahkiin was one of the Blades-his cover would have been blown instantly.

"There were Dwarven ruins beneath here that we…expanded into, to say the least." She continued as they emerged from a dark hallway into circular room. A large stone statue, faded and worn and obviously ancient, stretched proudly from the floor to the ceiling. Vaguely he could make out a serpent lying prone at the statue's feet, a large blade struck through the creature's flesh. He studied the statue for another second, almost amused. It had been a long while since he'd last seen-never mind heard-of Talos. The ages had blurred Talos considerably, so badly the Thalmor had let their persecutions rest. The few who still did follow his religion were not even aware of his true name-they referred to him by a mangled version that sounded much more Khajiit than Nordic, Ta'lohs, if he recalled correctly-unless, like he had, worshippers lived in pockets of Skyrim that remained remote and untouched by time.

She led him to a trapdoor hidden beneath a few barrels and down a ladder, remaining silent the whole while. From there they emerged into a larger circular room. Lying beaten, bloodied, and chained to one wall was a very familiar face.

He was aware of others beyond the Dragon Priests that served Lord Alduin. Very rarely did the World Eater choose to speak to them, but there was some interaction. The man before him was a slave to the World Eater-one who knew nothing of value and had been broken years before beneath the sharp edge of the Black-Blood's blade.

Hevnoraak was still absolutely shocked to see him.

It had been years since he'd seen his father.

All of that he took in within a second, and cast a curious glance to the Priestess. She smiled sweetly at his look and wrapped her fingers around his sword, pulling it out of the sheath at his side. She pressed it into his hands and pointed to his father.

"This man serves the dragons. We have no more use for him." Understanding flooded him. Nahkriin had put him through a similar test after he'd killed the previous Hevnoraak. She had ordered him to kill a Blade after they'd gotten all useful information from him, and gauged his reaction.

She was a master at reading body language-the Priestess had to be as well.

He suddenly realized that all of it had gone a bit too smoothly-things had been prepared. Either they knew who he was, or they'd been going to recruit the assassin.

"What stays your blade?" Her tone was a bit cooler.

"A wonderful set-up, Priestess. Is the Brotherhood aware of this?" Her lips curved into a smile, blue orbs glittering in the torch light.

"Rizan approached us. Told us his new recruit wasn't devoted enough, but he had no desire to let your talent go to waste as fodder for the Listener's enemies. He also let it slip your…hatred towards the dragons…was impressive." As she spoke, his eyes wandered back to his father. The man lay in a trembling ball on the ground, bleeding and whimpering like a child. Silence consumed all save his father's whining until he acted. His foot slammed into his father's stomach, forcing the man to unwind from his ball. He plunged his blade down, and looked up at the Priestess.

"I have business to attend to first." He said softly, tone hard. She smiled again.

"I'll expect you here in a month."


	3. Chapter 3

The stone doors slammed behind him, the force of his anger agitating the very foundation of Valthume. He couldn't believe he had been so _stupid!_ He was careful when he took victims. How could he have missed a _Blade?!_

"Hevnoraak." He stopped dead at the voice, forcing his rage down until it was somewhat manageable.

Nahkriin passed him, pointing to one of the victims chained to the wall. He followed her finger and studied the half-starved man hanging limply from iron manacles. A handful of empty glass bottles cluttered the floor at the man's feet, each bearing hastily scribbled ingredients and variants. He'd always had a knack for alchemy-his victims were his test subjects for his products.

"Krosis followed you. He came to us, assuming you would be a bit busy with your…pact. You've little time to waste so I've done your work for you." She said, settling on a table facing him. He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"Lord Alduin wished to come, but he had no desire to put any stress upon your predicament. He sends his admiration." She added, lifting up a random bottle.

"This is the Blade?"

"_Was_." She corrected, setting the bottle down.

"And I'm the Black-Blood?" He murmured, studying the man critically. Hevnoraak could see no visible injury to him save a single strip of blackened skin. A smile touched Nahkriin's eyes, a rare occurrence for the solemn SecondClaw.

He was honestly surprised to see her out. All of the Dragon Priests were intensely loyal to Alduin, but Nahkriin's devotion went even beyond his own. She was the only Dragon Priest other than himself who would take on another's punishment if she believed their talents were needed more than her own. She led Worship and Sacrifice, and it was no secret she was Alduin's lover. Alduin rarely let her leave his side.

"You flatter me, FourthClaw. Will be we correct to assume you will not be returning home for a time?" She asked. He nodded.

"Tell Lord Alduin I will accept punishment for any deaths I will cause." Nahkriin laughed at his words.

"Don't think Lord Alduin is a fool. He understands there will be losses. Hev, think of what you've done. For _centuries_ we have been trying to wipe out the Blades, to discover their sanctuary and destroy them! You are the _only_ one to have done so in _all_ of our history!" Her eyes were alit, blazing with excitement and delight as she spoke. She rarely used nicknames, something that gave away just how elated she truly was.

"Nahkriin, they know Valthume is a Keep. They know what I look like, and they know I what I am. That's only what the Priestess _told_ me." He couldn't hide his anger. He was disgusted with himself-he'd thought he'd been careful. He'd thought he'd covered his tracks! He'd thought his barriers worked well enough-but _no. _They _didn't._

Nahkriin let a smile touch her lips, bringing back his memories of her own Keep-Skuldafn.

"Home is with the others, Hevnoraak. The Keeps are useless-dumping places, like yours, or empty holds filled with dead men who died for another."

"I can't believe I was so _careless!_" He growled. It wasn't that Nahkriin wasn't right-she was. Valthume wasn't home to him, and his stays were sporadic at best, few and long between. Morokei had free reign of the place and she was the one that fed his experiments every few days, keeping them alive although not strictly _healthy_.

Nahkriin put a hesitant hand on his back, an attempt at reassurance. A silence grew between them, and he let his anger drain out during it. He finally relaxed and sat on the ground. Nahkriin settled beside him.

"Nahkriin…Skuldafn was Alduin IV's stronghold, and it was only accessible by Dov back. How did you…?" He trailed off, hoping he wasn't intruding. He rarely asked personal questions of the other Dragon Priests and Nahkriin had always carried an unspoken weight with her whenever talk of past was brought up.

Surprisingly, she smiled.

"By Dov back, of course."

His shock was nearly tangible. It was the last thing he had ever expected her to say-Nahkriin would have had to beat a Dovah into submission, something punishable by death.

The implications staggered him. Nahkriin had been the first Dragon Priest to stand beside Lord Alduin's side, there even before Konahrik. She was the Arch-Dragon Priest, a position one attained only through absolute dedication.

"Were you aware of the consequences?" He asked softly, looking up at her. She continued to smile, her eyes clouded with memories.

"Yes...Lord Alduin found me when I exited the Keep. I accepted full responsibility for my actions." Her tone was entirely calm as she spoke.

She didn't say anything else for a while, and Hevnoraak could easily assume why.

"Konahrik brought in Vokun and Volsung last night." She finally sighed, glancing at him.

"Have you had a chance to-"

"Yes." She interrupted, already knowing what he was going to ask.

"Volsung has taken a liking to Morokei-she hardly leaves her side. Vokun is interested in the Lore…I don't think Konahrik will have anything left to tell him by the time you get back." She murmured.

"Is Krosis alright?"

"Yes. He was…very excited when he got back. It took a few hours to get what had happened out of him, but he will be fine. Lord Alduin has him scouting the Temple of Dibella-Konahrik suspects that the priestess isn't alone."

"I would assume she isn't….She made it sound as if the Blades had made a lot of important connections all throughout Skyrim."

"Like the Thieves Guild, then?" He nodded at her words. The thought of just how influential the Blades were was a terrifying prospect-was there a possibility one of the Dragon Priests were beneath their control?

_No_. If Nahkriin couldn't ferret out a traitor, which in itself was nearly improbable, then he would have gotten them by now. And during the first Sacrifice of a newly chosen Dragon Priest, Alduin would have discovered the truth.

Despite himself, he couldn't help but visibly flinch at where his thoughts were going. He didn't regret the Initiation, but he'd no love for what had happened. Having his head torn apart once was bad enough-he didn't want to relive the experience.

Nahkriin's laughter drew his attention.

"I cannot fathom why you and the others dislike the Initiation experience so much."

"That was your punishment for defeating the Dov, wasn't it?" He sighed. She nodded, unsurprised by his knowledge.

"Your experience was different. I cannot speak for the others, but mine was…painful. It didn't take me a month to recover because I was any less loyal than the others…I just wasn't prepared. I lost all sense of being, all sense of who I was. _What_ I was. It took me a long time to regain that."

She tilted her head.

"Do you want me to pass on the warning to Vokun and Volsung?"

"No. Wouldn't do any good to get them nervous." He snorted, pushing himself up. She stood with him, folding her arms over her chest.

"Will you eliminate the Blade for me? I've some business to finish before I meet the Priestess."

"I believe Alduin will be pleased with this Sacrifice." She whispered.

Konahrik lifted his mask to his face, the cool embrace of the metal calming his frantic thoughts. He rearranged his ceremonial robes as he strode towards Lord Alduin's personal chambers. The ceilings here were more than high enough for the Dovah, but the door at the end of the massive hall was not. Lord Alduin preferred his mortal form to that of his Dov form, much to the provocation of his Dov servants.

The doors opened before him, revealing a circular room with ten doors-nine of which would lead into other halls, to another door, which would open into the private chambers of the Dragon Priests. There were easier ways into those rooms-portals, scattered around alcoves and small halls in the main chamber, where they spent most of their time. Lord Alduin's door alone stood open, the double doors held in place by two trembling slaves who both bore Hevnoraak's mark-_Ah, irony_. He stalked past them, thoughts still troubled.

He wasn't surprised Lord Alduin had called this meeting. Hevnoraak had always troubled both of them and it was rare that both Hevnoraak and Nahkriin were absent from Lord Alduin's side. Neither of them were willing to pass up this chance.

Lord Alduin looked up as Konahrik entered and bowed.

"No need for formalities, Konahrik…" Lord Alduin murmured, trailing off as he lifted a hand. The doors swung shut, crushing both slaves-they had been told not to move, and Hevnoraak knew how to train.

"His loyalties are not in question, Lord Alduin." Konahrik began. He wished no harm to Hevnoraak-he thought of the Black-Blood as a son, and wanted to leave Lord Alduin no space to fear betrayal.

"We both know that it isn't." The World Eater interrupted, frowning. Konahrik sighed.

"I'm only concerned. This mission, the…circumstances that he's found himself in…I do not believe he is the best choice for this…delicate situation." Konahrik struggled to chose his words carefully.

"You want to pull him out?"

"It's possible. He used a glamour."

"A glamour only changes your physical appearance. Not your mannerisms, or your voice. If we were to replace him the only acceptable replacement would be Krosis, but at this point even that would be an unwise choice. The Blades are not stupid. Their priestess has probably already committed each and every reaction Hevnoraak gave to memory and she will undoubtedly compare how he reacts when they meet again. Krosis is an assassin and a thief, but he is not an impersonator. His one weakness has always been that he's unable to disguise himself as another." Lord Alduin said sharply, turning his head around to glare at Konahrik.

"Hevnoraak has the full potential to ruin the mission. He is fully loyal to our cause, Lord Alduin, and that could be a dangerous. What's to stop him from slaughtering the first base of Blades he is introduced to? If he doesn't wait for-"

"It's a chance we'll have to take. We will have to trust him. It's farther than any of the others have gotten in centuries." Konahrik didn't miss the pointed jab.

"And if he fails?"

Lord Alduin turned to look at him, eyes solid black as scales began rippling across his flesh.

"He will serve in undeath."


End file.
